


After the storm

by Clocketpatch



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Drabble Sequence, Gen, Time War Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 16:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clocketpatch/pseuds/Clocketpatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>End of the Time War angst!fic in the form of a triple-drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the storm

**Author's Note:**

> * * *

  
Rain.

A storm on the wasteland. It hits the black sand like an antelope dancing on bubble wrap; a clumsy, graceful, random river of pops as the droplets burrow their way into the earth and throw up tiny sparkles of dust.

This is not water.

This is shining mercury, a silver storm of poison with an acid hail. This is black oil rain and chemicals, a toxic spew from a nuclear cloud.

This is death.

A man stands with his scarred face up-turned and dares the rain to burn away what little remains of his identity.

The time has come.

*

In the beginning there had been choice. There had been morals and conscience. There had been questions:

_"Do I have the right?"_

Gallifrey had stepped out of the chaos of war and darkness once before, choosing at the dawn of time to sit outside the universe lest it be destroyed. But destruction has its own wiles. No man or species is an island, and by their simple existence the Time Lords changed the pond of the cosmos.

They thought they could not interfere, but did not realise that they must still interact.

And in the end they had no choice.

*

The rain is not enough to kill him.

He breathes deep of the deadly fumes, but they refuse to choke away the purpose he needs to fulfil.

In the beginning there had been choice, and right and wrong, and room for error. Now right and wrong were blurred, free will was dead, and his last act must succeed. Trifling moral concerns no longer mattered.

Did he have the right?

Who bloody well cared?

The man limps towards the only other shape in the wasteland: a dented blue box. Inside there is a button.

He presses it.  


* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=12898>


End file.
